


Destination: Cuba

by sgteam14283



Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: First Meetings, Gen, Spies & Secret Agents, World Travel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-25
Updated: 2019-08-25
Packaged: 2020-09-26 17:38:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,888
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20393575
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sgteam14283/pseuds/sgteam14283
Summary: Clint is tasked with an assassination job. So of course he has to pick the apartment belonging to the Black Widow as a nest.





	Destination: Cuba

**Author's Note:**

> this is a fill for be_compromised's Summer Promptathon! kiss_me_cassie wanted 'intel said you wouldn't be back until next week so I'm using your apartment as a sniper nest' so here it is! Takes place pre-Avengers and enjoy!

There were a few good things about Cuba. 

One of them being that now that the travel embargo for U.S. residents had been lifted Clint didn’t have to pretend to be Canadian. The other was that the buildings were relatively close enough so setting up a sniper nest was easier. 

Clint Barton had done assassination missions before, with his precision he was perfect for them. Plus he got to travel on SHIELDs expense account so that meant looking the part; actual hotels rather than safehouses, decent wardrobe. Hell, even wearing nicer clothes than his usual uniform. 

The target was a politician that was determined to destabilize the government than actually help so SHIELD was approached to ‘solve’ the problem. Everything that Intel got suggested that the man liked his routine; coffee and pastry at the same cafe every morning, followed by walking to his office, work, and then a drive to his mistress’s for the evening.

“_At least I know where he’ll be at any given moment._” Clint thought while glancing at the file as in his hotel room. “_And luckily the cafe is nearby._”

Under the guise of taking photos for the travel website he worked for, Clint found that the best angle on the busy avenue would be from the apartment complex across the street. He quickly emailed Coulson to see if he could get intel on the apartment on the second floor. 

A few hours later his email chimed with a reply.

_Apartment owned by Natalie Rushman, French expat. According to airline info she’s out of the country until the end of the week. Security minimal._

“Awesome.” Clint said under his breath while taking a few more photos of the avenue. He’d spend the night in the apartment, making sure to catch the official on his morning walk. If everything went according to plan, by the end of tomorrow he’d be boarding a plane bound stateside.

Getting into the complex was easy, just wait until the nine to five crowd started coming home for the day and slip in behind one. Entering the apartment was even easier, picking the lock and he was in. 

Looking around the apartment, Clint got a pretty good idea of who lived there. The living room was decorated simply; an overstuffed red colored couch with matching chairs dotted around the space, a few knick-knacks and photos to say that someone who enjoyed traveling lived there, and light blue drapes that covered the windows. Shifting a chair slightly to the right, he settled in for the night. 

Day broke quickly and the street sounds of a city waking up reached Clint through the open window. Rubbing his neck, he stretched and glanced at his watch; he had forty-five minutes until the target arrived. 

“_Enough time for a quick cup of coffee._” Clint wandered over to the small kitchen and woke up the brand name coffee machine. A quick look through the caddy next to the machine told him that Natalie preferred medium roasts, much like himself.

In almost no time the smell of freshly made coffee filled the medium-sized apartment and Clint made sure to wash and put the mug back, placing it in the spot it’d been in when he picked it up. 

There couldn’t be any trace that he’d actually been here.

\--

Natasha Romanov, aka Natalie Rushman, walked briskly towards her apartment complex. Her contract in the U.S. had wrapped up early and even though she wasn’t due back until the end of the week had decided to spend the money and change her flight. She hadn’t been in her apartment for more than a day in the last month and was craving familiar surroundings.

Walking along the cobbled streets she let the smell of bread baking and the early morning sounds of people getting ready to start the day surround her. She loved how uncomplicated the people around her lived and if wasn't for the Communist regime, it could almost be a wonderful place to really settle down. Walking past the small cafe, she smiled at the waiter who was bringing chairs outside.

“You’re back early, Ms. Rushman.”

“Finished my business trip to the States early. Thought I’d enjoy the view from my apartment for awhile.”

“You left your window open. Luckily it hasn’t rained.” 

Natasha paused at the innocent statement, she always made sure her apartment was locked up before leaving. Not wanting Pablo to think anything was wrong, she plastered on a smile before saying, “Silly me, I must have been in a rush to get to the airport. Thanks for letting me know.”

Walking into the apartment complex, she made her way to the third floor and paused on the other side of the elevator. Natasha listened for anything that would give her a clue about who was inside but, save for the normal noise of the other residents waking up, there was nothing. 

Taking a breath, Natasha tested the door knob and found that it was locked. As quietly as she could, she removed her keys and turned the lock. Knowing the noise alerted the person inside, she rushed in and ducked into the kitchen, the body just missing her. Not pausing she lunged forwards, trying to wrap her arms around the intruder. But he was too fast for her and she stumbled. 

Clint swung a fist and connected with the woman’s side. She stumbled back and took off her heels, throwing them towards him in an effort to slow him down. He caught a sharp point on the side of his face and the other in his stomach. Moving automatically, Clint moved in a flurry of movements trying to gain the upper hand. 

“_He’s good._” Natasha thought as she countered his punches and swept his feet out, sending him crashing to the ground. Grabbing a lamp she particularly didn’t like, Natasha threw it towards the man- hoping all the destruction would at least make him regret breaking into her apartment.

Clint scrambled up and barely missed the lamp, it crashing to the floor. He was really going to let Intel have it for not keeping track of flight information. He was pretty sure his window of opportunity for the hit was nearing, if not gone already, and he needed to rethink his approach. But he figured the woman currently going for what he assumed was a sharp implement wouldn’t let him just leave. 

Spotting a towel laying on the table, Clint grabbed it and wrung it into makeshift rope. Striding towards the kitchen, he started to throw the towel around the woman’s neck but she reacted before it could get all the way around; raising an arm and yanking the towel forwards. Sliding forwards a little, he let go and decided that it was time to leave. 

Natasha threw the dish towel to the floor and turned, forgetting about the knife she was originally going for. Not wanting the intruder to leave she ran towards him and tackled him to the ground; placing a knee on his back while grabbing his hands. 

“Who sent you?” she demanded, pressing the knee into his spine.

Clint let out a grunt, “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Red Room? MI6? Mossad?”

“Do I have an accent? Geeze.”

“They’re not above hiring independent contractors.” Natasha pushed back the hair in her face and started looking for something within arms reach to tie him up with. 

“Well,” Clint gave an experimental wiggle but found that there wasn’t enough give so he decided to wait until an opportunity showed up. “I’m not independent either. Can I ask how you knew I was here?”

“Window was open. And I know that I lock everything up before leaving.”

“Do you really think I’d open a window if I was after you?” 

Natasha grabbed a cord and paused, knowing he had a point. But that didn’t mean she believed him. “Suppose you’re right, then why the hell are you in my apartment?” 

“There a Party Member who likes to visit the cafe on the corner every morning. I was hired because he’s interested in destabilizing Cuba’s government and there are people in the States who don’t want that to happen.”

“And he’s high enough that the current leader can’t get his hands dirty.” Natasha finished because she’d done a number of these kinds of jobs. “There are plenty of other sightlines, why not choose one of those?”

Clint was roughly jerked onto his knees before he felt a cord being wrapped around his wrists. “Because even though I love the weather here I didn’t want to spend the night on some roof. Gotta enjoy what I can, while I can.” 

Natasha turned around so he couldn’t see the smile on her face even though he still wasn’t facing her. If he worked for an agency then she couldn’t just kill him and dump the body, they’d send someone to figure out what happened. Satisfied that he was secure for the moment, she went back into the hallway to grab her bags.

Clint flexed his wrists and found it was tight, but there was still a good amount of give. He turned his head to see his captor walking away and knew there wouldn’t be many chances to escape. Taking a deep breath, he flexed his arms and let out a grunt as the cable snapped. Scrambling up, he bolted for the door and out into the hallway. Pausing he looked to his left and saw the woman by the elevator, hand around what he assumed was her luggage. 

Then the moment caught up with him and Clint ran in the opposite direction, out into the morning.

Natasha had to give him credit, escaping as soon as she was out of the room. She almost pulled out her throwing knives when he burst into the hallway. But the way he looked at her made her pause, that he was just going to find another way to complete the mission. But they both had escaped the fight without any real injuries so she let him go, walking back to her apartment like nothing was wrong.

\--

Phil Coulson finished reading the report and raised an eyebrow at Clint, not sure he believed what had happened while in Cuba. “You’re telling me you ran into the Black Widow? And you didn’t bring her in?”

Clint shrugged, “She didn’t try to kill me so I didn’t see any reason. Besides, I’m sure that she’s long gone by now.”

After getting the target as he stepped out of his car, Clint had done some research on the flight back; figuring out from the description of the woman, the Red Room mention, and looking up incidents in the States, that the apartment he’d broken into belonged to the infamous Black Widow.

Phil let out a sigh and knew that if it had actually been her then Clint had escaped fairly easily. “We’ll still put out a notice.”

“And tell the guys in Intel that they need to keep track of airline ticket info.” Clint stood and exited his handler’s office. Walking to his own to start sifting through the mountain of files that had appeared in his absence, Clint silently hoped he ran into the Widow again. 

He wanted a rematch on a level playing field.


End file.
